First Drafts: George Gets a Little Too Curious
He’s really a sweet little guy once you get to know him.
“Did you hear? A new monkey is coming in today.” Alan said, trying to act casual as he waited for Cecily to finish filling up her morning mug of coffee. The break room coffee at the Bronx Zoo was a step below fast food swill, but it was free. Cecily usually just tried not to smell it when she was drinking, shutting off as many senses as possible to let the caffeine really work its way into her bloodstream.
“Not now Alan. I’m trying to concentrate on the taste of the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had, maybe I can trick my brain into thinking this sewer water is even halfway decent.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them and quickly took a swig. “No dice.” She sighed.
Alan chuckled and smiled awkwardly before grabbing the coffee pot from in front of her and filling his own cup. He shrugged his shoulders, clinked his mug against hers, and took a sip of his own. His mouth turned down to a grimace.
“I swear they must use the aquarium water to make this. It’s like fish pee, algae, and previously used coffee grounds.”
“I think my body’s at least 90% this coffee. Like, the human body is 60% water but I’m 90% the worst coffee you’ve ever had.”
“So that would mean you’re like… at least 40% fish pee.”
“Alan, I would say this was the perfect way to start the morning, but you’ve literally just ruined my entire day.” She smiled brightly and touched the brim of her bucket hat as if to tip it to him. Alan licked his lips uncomfortably and dumped the rest of his coffee into the sink, brushing his hands against each other as if to say ‘that’s enough of that!’
“Well anyway, good luck with the new monkey.” He said over his shoulder as he left.
“Wait, what new monkey?!” Cecily shouted after him.
It was not long before Cecily was well acquainted with the new monkey. It was hard to tell where he’d come from, different people had different bits and pieces of the story, but the only certain thing was that he wasn’t intended to be at the zoo. At least, not originally. From what she could glean from the various bits and pieces, the monkey had been smuggled into the country illegally to be sold as an exotic pet. Someone in the rare birds division had even mentioned the man with the yellow hat.
Now he was a whole other story. An unnamed and mysterious figure known for smuggling all kinds of things into the country for all kinds of unsavory types of folks dealing in things that Cecily was sure she didn’t want to hear anything about. Maggie from big cats was thinking about making an investigative podcast about him. “The Man Behind the Hat” she’d tossed out as a name idea to Cecily and Alan one afternoon in the break room. Alan had the excellent notion to remind Maggie that in order to call it that she’d probably have to unmask said man behind the hat during the course of the podcast, which would require hard core investigative journalism and likely putting her life on the line. Maggie thought better of the name.
How he got there didn’t really matter to Cecily though, as soon as she saw the little guy she knew he’d be her favorite. He was small, but not a baby, and he seemed to have lost his tail somehow. She knew it happened sometimes, either from a confrontation in the wild or by an accident during a smuggling operation.
This sort of unusual way of gaining possession of the monkey meant that the zoo had no name for him. He was called 41 for a while, being the 41st monkey to arrive at the Bronx zoo, but they knew it couldn’t stay that way for too long.
“Harold.” Said her only consistent coworker in the exotic monkey hut. August was cleaning the glass on the outside of 41’s enclosure. Cecily frowned.
“Harold? For a monkey? Come on August, can you please take this seriously? It’s been two weeks, he needs a real name!” August threw her a look of mock offense.
“Harold is a real name. What do you think a real name is, huh? You don’t want to name him something cutesy like… Socks…”
“You joke but Socks seems like a great name for a monkey.”
They pondered a bit more in silence. As August continued to wipe down the window, 41 watched from the other side. Not necessarily transfixed by the repetitious motion, more studying the movements, seemingly to ascertain their purpose.
“He’s a curious little fella. I think Harold would suit him very well. But I did get to name Evangeline, so I guess it’s your turn.”
“If you keep naming the monkeys things like Evengeline I think eventually it will always be my turn.”
Cecily stared into the enclosure and 41 stared back at her. There was something different about this animal. His eyes were so full of life, bright and there was something behind them that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“George.” She said, the name came tumbling out of her mouth of its own accord and she was surprised to hear it.
“George.” August replied, absolutely deadpan. “And that’s different from Harold how?”
“Well for one thing, one of those is his name and the other isn’t.”
Cecily stumbled through her front door, barely avoiding tripping over the rug in the entryway. She giggled and tossed her purse onto the couch, collapsing next to it. The room swam in front of her and she slowly fell to the side until she was laying on the couch staring up at the ceiling.
“Water. Gotta drink water.” Grunting with effort, she pulled herself off the couch and to her feet, using the wall to balance herself as she made her way to the kitchen. She opened one of the cabinets, opting for a plastic cup over a glass one, and gulped down a whole glass of water as quickly as she could.
Making a mental note to never let August buy shots again, she poured another glass of water. At least Alan had been kind enough to be the designated driver and take her back to her apartment in this state. He was such a nice guy she thought, so genuine, so cute. Surprised by herself for the second time that day she put a pin in that thought to revisit in a less inebriated state. A strange rustling noise from behind her made her turn suddenly, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
As the second glass of water entered her system and the world seemed to stabilize around her, Cecily got ready for bed and finally, blissfully, fell into her bed. It was the comfiest bed she’d ever laid on, and even sooner than she’d anticipated she was asleep.
The first time she heard it was two hours later, at 2:00 am. A little pitter patter, like tiny feet scampering across her wooden floors. She assumed she was still a bit under the influence, and that a noise from her dream had felt so real it had woken her up.
The second time it was 3:00 am. The noise was louder this time, closer. Cecily woke up but did not open her eyes, her whole body seemingly frozen, her breath fragmented and shallow. She heard it again and focused in on it. It wasn’t near enough to be in the room with her, but she remembered having left the bedroom door ajar and cursed her past self.
Laying in bed, shocked still, Cecily waited to hear the noise again, but after waiting what seemed like an eternity she did not. She played her next steps over and over in her head, she’d just jump out of bed, run to the bedroom door and close it. Easy.
Easy or not it took several more minutes and rehearsals in her mind for Cecily to get up the courage, but once she’d counted down from three roughly 20 times she leapt from her bed and slammed the door shut, a little more forcefully than she’d intended.
“I know you’re here and I’m calling the police!” She shouted through the door. Not a sound was heard on the other side.
Scrambling back to her bed to grab her cell phone, Cecily hastily dialed the first person she could think of and released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding in when he actually answered.
“Cecily? What’s going on, it’s 3:30 in the morning…”
“Alan! Oh thank god. I need your help. There’s something in my house.”
“Something? Or someone? Or…. what kind of something? Should I call the police?!”
“No. No. I… don’t know. I just heard something and I was sleeping and I yelled at it but then I didn’t hear anything else so I don’t-”
A shuffling sound came from the hallway causing Cecily to stop mid sentence.
“Cecily?! Are you there? Say something so I know you’re alright!” Alan practically yelled into the phone.
“I’m okay,” She whispered, “I just heard a noise. Can you come over? I can let you in my bedroom window out back. I just need someone to… help me. I mean, it might just be a stray cat or something but I can’t do this by myself.”
“Um. Yeah, okay…. Okay, yeah. I’ll leave right now. I’ll be there really soon.” He assured her before quickly hanging up the phone. And so she waited.
When Alan knocked on the bedroom window Cecily nearly jumped out of her skin. She hurried over and unlocked it, and Alan came tumbling through in the most graceful way any six foot tall person could climb through a window that was four feet off the ground. He reached back outside once he’d regained his composure and pulled through a child sized baseball bat that looked to be at least ten years old.
“What is that for?” Cecily whispered.
“I don’t know Cee, you didn’t really give me a lot of forewarning on this one.” Alan replied, both exasperated and exhausted.
“Cee?” She asked, and Alan flushed red.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just, like, assign you a nickname. Like oh here’s your nickname even though you didn’t ask for one and had no input on it. I will absolutely not be doing that again.”
“No, it’s alright, I kinda like it.” It was Cecily’s turn to dawn rosy cheeks, but the moment was short lived. Something shuffled outside of the bedroom. Alan raised his bat, the panic clear in his eyes.
“I mean, it sounds small right?” Cecily asked, a tremble evident in her voice.
“If it’s just a stray cat we’ll just need to chase it out…” Alan trailed off but tried to give Cecily an encouraging smile, she nodded back to him and shrugged her shoulders. Carefully, they both approached the bedroom door, and with a nod of approval from Cecily, Alan turned the doorknob and pushed it open slowly.
The hallway beyond was dark, so it was difficult to see if anything lurked there, but Cecily moved stealthily forward towards the light switch and turned it on quickly and decisively. But there was nothing to be seen in the hallway. She looked over at Alan, who tilted his head to indicate they should continue down towards the kitchen.
Cecily rounded the corner into the kitchen first, and was so stunned by what she saw that she stopped dead in her tracks and Alan bumped into her. The both stared into the room, unable to explain the sight in front of them. George sat on her kitchen counter, the contents of her cabinets were emptied, bags of chips and other foods ripped open and scattered everywhere, and the monkey himself was holding a Poptart, sniffing it.
“George?” Cecily asked, surveying the wreck. Alan’s grip on his bat tightened.
“How did he get here?” He asked, suspiciously. George continued to sniff the poptart, then took a quick lick.
“He really is a curious little guy.” She remarked, starting to relax now that she knew she wasn’t in any danger. She had begun making her way across the tile floor towards him when something unexpected happened. A guttural, deep, earthy sound erupted from the monkey, at first just a low rumble and then it began to form words.
“What is this?” George asked, holding the Poptart up to the light. And as he asked they noticed something strange, the nub where his tail had once been began to protrude and grow. Right before their eyes a tail at least three times the length of George himself stretched out and into a needle pointed end, like a stinger.
The tail whipped around a moment before coming to a rest with its point just inches from Cecily’s face. George asked again.
“What is this?” Unable to speak from fear, Cecily merely quickened her breathing, relieved when Alan spoke.
“It’s food. It’s for eating.” He said, miming putting something into his mouth and then chewing. George licked the Poptart again.
“It’s… disgusting.” The monkey said, he then made a couple of horrifying retching noises and then threw up onto the counter. The substance that escaped him fell on the marble and almost immediately began eating away at it, the sound like sizzling oil, and a steam rising from it.
George rounded on Cecily and Alan.
“Where is Hans?”
“I don’t know who that is.” Cecily stammered, finally finding a spot of courage. George was clearly unhappy with this answer, as his tail swooped down and pierced her shoulder, coming in right below her collarbone and erupting out of her back. It withdrew as quickly as it had perforated her body and George held it menacingly above them. Alan rushed to Cecily’s side as she crumpled to the ground, holding her shoulder and crying.
“Where is Hans?” George asked again. Alan looked warily up at the threatening tail hovering above them and then looked the monkey in the eye.
“We really don’t know who that is, I promise you.” The tails point crashed down towards them and struck a point on the floor close to Alan’s knee, shattering the tile. But then George turned from them and vomited again onto the counter, the same awful acrid fluid.
Alan took the opportunity to pick up the baseball bat that lay on the floor next to him, and with one powerful swing he sent the monkey flying across the room, slamming his body into the wall beside them. As George cried out, Alan dragged Cecily to her feet, and through the front door, slamming it shut behind them. The two ran to Alan’s car, and did not speak or properly breathe again until they’d put five minutes of drive time between them and the creature. Cecily spoke first.
“I’ve got an idea who Hans might be.” She said plainly, as though her shoulder wasn't bleeding profusely all over Alan’s passenger seat.
“Me too.”
“The man behind the hat?”
“Don’t tell Maggie."